a common peasant, and Signer Colonna would
not have offered you money."

Saxon sprang to his feet with an impatient
gesture.

"Enough of would be, and might be!"
exclaimed he. "Of what use are these speculations?
I am not rich, and I never shall be rich;
so it is idle to think of it."

"At all events," persisted Mr. Trefalden, "you
admit the desirableness of wealth?"

"I—I am not sure. I cannot relinquish an
old belief so hastily."

"Not even in favour of the truth?"

"I do not yet know that it is the truth. My
mind needs further evidence."

"Of what, my son?" said a gentle voice
close behind him.

It was the pastor. There was a field-path
across those very meadows between Rotzberg
and Reichenau, and the pine-trunk where the
cousins had stayed to rest lay within a dozen
yards of its course.

Saxon uttered a joyous exclamation.

"This is fortunate!" cried he. "You come
at the right moment, father, to judge our
argument."

"We were talking of riches," said Mr.
Trefalden, rising, and grasping the old man's
outstretched hand. "My young kinsman
here preaches the language of an Arcadian,
and declaims against the precious metals like a
second Timon. I, on the other hand, have been
trying to convince him that gold has a very
bright side, indeed, and may be made to perform
a good many wise offices. What say you?"

The pastor looked distressed.

"The question is a broad one," said he, "and
there is much truth on both sides of it. But we
cannot discuss it now. I want to talk to you,
cousin William. I have hastened down from
Rotzberg, fearing all the time lest I should miss
you. Were you not going to Chur?"

"We were going, and are going, by-and-by,"
replied Mr. Trefalden.

"Can you spare me half an hour before you
start?"

"The whole day, if you please."

"Nay, an hour will be more than enough.
Saxon, that which I have to say to our cousin is
not for thy ears. Go up, my son, to Tamins,
and inquire about that Indian corn-seed that
farmer Retzschel promised us last week."

Saxon looked surprised; but prepared to be
gone without a word.

"Shall I come back here afterwards?" he
asked.

"No. It would be better to await thy cousin
at the Adler."

Saxon coloured, and hesitated.

"Could I not wait at the chapel?" said he.

"Ay, at the chapel, if thou wilt."

So the young man waved a cheery farewell, and
started at once upon his uncle's errand. Looking
back presently, at the turn of the path, he
saw them sitting on the pine-trunk, side by side,
already in earnest conversation. He saw Mr.
Trefalden shake his head. He fancied there was
some kind of trouble in the old man's attitude.
What could his uncle have to say to one whom,
kinsman though he was, he had never seen till
the previous evening? Why this mystery about
their conversation? It was very strange. Saxon
could not help feeling that he must be himself
concerned, somehow or another, in the matter;
and this surmise added, vaguely, to his
uneasiness.

         THE LIONS, THE LIONS!

Now that Jules Gerard is gone, M.
Chassaing is the French lion-killer of the day; and
he is perfectly right in giving to the world
a modest narrative of his exploits.* Next to
ridding a country of criminal men, is the clearing
it of voracious beasts. Fancy the sensation
in our midland counties at knowing one hungry
lion only to be abroad; what a relief, then, must
it have been to dwellers near Batna to be freed
from the terror of four in one single night, the
21st of March last! The evil is, that in Algeria
the lion's names are Legion and Hydra. When
one is slain, another recruit forthwith fills his
place. It must be many years, if ever, before
the colonised portions of Africa can think of
their great feline animals with the same equanimity
as we regard wolves. As to the vast
uncolonised regions, lions and their fellows form a
considerable part of the native inheritance.
* Thirty lions were already in M. Chassaing's
game-bag when Mes Chasses au Lion went to press.
The number has since increased, and is still
increasing.

Even the Arabs (who, with all their faults, are
far from cowards) rarely make war on the great
carnivores. But they are indolent, and therefore
will not hunt by night. They know, moreover,
that the animal has a hundred different
pathways, and that they are not sure of meeting
him one time out of thirty. They prefer to
attack him by day; a proceeding which is almost
always followed by the death of some of the
assailants, or by serious wounds.

A panther, who had fixed his quarters on a
mountain about six miles north-east of Batna
(M. Chassaing's head-quarters and centre of
operations), had, for a considerable time, caused
the Arabs to suffer serious losses. At last,
when their patience was quite worn out, they
came to the resolution of killing him, and chose,
for their expedition the afternoon of January
27, 1862. After the usual investigations and a
careful observation of the enemy's stronghold,
thirty men, armed with guns and other
accessories, commenced the attack. The animal,
once driven out, received several shots, but was
only wounded more or less severely. The Arabs
broke the circle which they had formed to
surround the brute, and fell in a body on the
panther, hoping to crush him by one bold stroke.
But he, finding himself driven up a corner,
charged his assailants, and made such good use